The moment you made it to your room, you tore off your pants, undid your bra, and threw yourself onto your bed. Pillows and blankets bounced up and enveloped you, and you took what felt like the first breath you were allowed all day.
It had been another long day. That was what the past few weeks have felt like, just one long day after another. You had just returned from another therapy session, it didn't go so well. You still didn't want to talk to your therapist or open up about anything. You just couldn't lay your soul bare to a stranger, sure it was her job to care about you and your troubles, but you just couldn't. A big part of you didn't want to face the truth, you wanted to run away from your problems and never look back. You didn't want to talk or think about anything anymore. You needed a clean slate, not to be reminded of your issues every second of every day.
You exhaled deeply, a frown on your face.
You turned to look at the stack of homework sitting on your desk and you cringed at the thought of having to do that at some point or another.
It was dark out now and that didn't help your mood because you felt like you hadn't done anything all day other than mope and complain. You only had therapy once a week and Monday-Friday, it was school and then straight back home, doctor's and cop's orders. It was like you weren't allowed to do anything or go anywhere because of current events, current events you did not want to think about, again.
You craved a distraction more than anything.
You needed a distraction, something to loosen you up and ease your mind.
You unbuttoned your shirt and splayed it open, too tired to take it off and add it to your bra and pants on the floor.
With your breasts and bare thighs exposed, you felt a harsh chill run over you. You glanced up and saw the windows to your room was left open, the frigid air pouring in. Your head rolled back, far too tired to care; there was no force in this world that could make you get up to close those windows. But the air crept over you, giving you goosebumps and a tingling feeling when it touched between your thighs. Your nipples hardened against the chill, and your breathing became ragged again, arousal beginning to build at your core.
Your hand crawled across your chest, your fingers pinching your nipples teasingly. You shut your eyes and with barely any thought Jerome entered your mind.
You didn't think of anything explicit, you never did at first. Just the sight of him made your heart beat a little faster. His stance, lean and tall and strong. His voice, raspy and husky. The way his eyes flared with a dark heat as he watched you. You bit your lip and imagined him stalking into your room in the dead of night. His eyes heavy and dark, drinking in your features. His desire matching yours, he would pin your arms above your head and torture you with deep, hungry kisses. His hands running over your breasts, down your sides. Gripping your thighs and pressing himself between your legs.
Wait, you had to stop yourself right there.
You couldn't be thinking about him.
You couldn't go back to that place.
You had to snap yourself out of those thoughts. You shook your head like that would shake the thoughts of the ginger, disappointed in yourself.
You sighed, your hand left your breast and rested on your stomach. You had to stop encouraging these thoughts. Whatever you two had, was over. Completely and utterly. You could never go back there.
Your own hand began to travel down your body, finding your panties warm and wet. You let out a breath as you rubbed yourself through the fabric, pretending that it was Jerome's hand instead, unconsciously, of course. He would tease you through your panties, taking pleasure in your whimpers and moans. Then he would rip them off, exposing you completely to him.
You slid your fingers under your panties and imagined Jerome's fingers slipping inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit as he fucked you. You imagined his face buried in your neck, moaning your name in a breathy voice, kissing and biting until you cried out. You focused on his voice, imagining him saying all sorts of dirty things. Whispering in your ear how obvious it was that you wanted him to fuck you. A shudder waved through you at the thought of it. Your right hand rubbed and fingered in practiced strokes while your left hand returned to your breast, pulling and pinching harder. Your hips buckled and thrust forward, trying to press harder against your imaginary lover.
Little did you know, Jerome was there in your room, lurking, watching you this whole time.
He was hiding inside your closet, watching through the sliver empty spaces, unbeknownst to you.
Jerome was enjoying every single second of this.
He was hard almost the moment he laid eyes on you. Your body laid out on the bed, your shirt opened and hiding nothing from his gaze. Your fingers busy between your thighs as you writhed and moaned. Your head was tipped back, your chin pointed at the ceiling, as your other hand toyed with your breast, squeezing the swell of soft flesh and pulling at the nipple in turn. He felt himself salivate at the sight of you. He swallowed hard, his eyes studying everything he saw, committing it to memory.
Your eyes were closed tight, too involved in your own fantasy to notice anything. He let out the breath he had been holding. Your hands exploring your body, your hips thrusting forward against your fingers. He knew you were thinking about him. The thought made his skin tingle, his hardness pressing tightly against his pants, swelling and throbbing between his legs as it rises up to full, zealous attention. You made another hoarse little sound, and a bolt of heat blazed through him. He felt that sound in his stomach, in his balls, at the base of his spine.
Your hand between your thighs had not settled into any defined rhythm. Your fingers were lightly teasing your folds, and you were soaked, your wetness glistening in the moonlight shining down on you. Jerome's gaze was transfixed on those fingers as they dipped just lightly into your entrance and then fluttered back up, spreading all that wetness around. He bit his lip to keep from making a needy sound of his own, his teeth sinking in with a stinging pain.
There was a little hum as you tugged your nipple again, then you sighed. Finally, you were done teasing yourself and you slid your panties all the way down to your ankles, and you let your fingers settle on your clit. It was swollen and slick, visible to him, nestled there in your soft curls, until your fingers hid it from view, drawing one, slow circle around it, then two quick ones. You shoved your hand into your hair, turning your head to the side, your eyes squeezed shut as you bit your lower lip.
Jerome nearly gasped at the sight of your face, flushed and lost in pleasure. His body jerked slightly, arousal, hot and dark, shaking him, burning up the inside of his thighs and settling in his balls, making them ache.
You opened your eyes, and Jerome flinched, worried that you would see him, but the room was dark save for that shaft of light from outside. And of all the shadows, he was in the deepest ones. A lurker, a spy, a voyeur, that's what Jerome was.
Your hair was spread out over your pillow, and you tossed your head, letting out a whimper as your pleasure builds. You bucked your hips, and Jerome responded instinctively, wanting to match you, meet you. The hand in your hair dragged down your chest and joined the other between your legs as you widened them, giving yourself more room to work.
The new fingers opened you up to the touch of your own fingers, and you set up a quick pace, two drawing circles on your clit and the labia that flows out from it, folds that spread and taper down around your center. Jerome swallowed, his throat tight and parched as he watched a bead of arousal escape from inside you and roll down the inner curve of your buttock. His cock bobbed, as if it needed to cross the room, fill that empty space.
As if you could read his thoughts, your hand drifted down, one hand still working on your clit, and slipped a finger inside yourself. Jerome's groan was covered by one from you, and it was almost too much. Jerome felt his groin grow hot and realized that he was almost unbearably hard. His knees quavered, and a hand hovered toward his cock, wanting to relieve some of the ache.
You whimpered, and he closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing that sound, but opened them quickly because he didn't want to miss another second of this.
Another agile finger joined the first, and this time, you pushed them deep, lifting your hips to meet them as you clenched your jaw, to keep yourself quiet, he imagined. You tossed your head on the pillow, hips pulsing up as you fucked yourself with your fingers. The sweet torment on your face was even more delicious than the sight of those nimble fingers, moving faster, deeper, rushed in a wild, desperate need to continue.
He watched you as you went on, and tried to imagine what you were imagining. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, and thought of his own fantasy. Unable to stop himself, he took hold of his member and began stroking himself, slowly at first, while his overheated imagination produced more pictures of him having his way with you. Your nipples hardening like pebbles as his lips and tongue played with them, your stifled moan when he sucked harder and harder, the feel of your curls when he spread your legs and buried his fingers deep inside your wet heat.
He stifled a groan as he imagined you kneeling between his legs, your tongue playing around the tip of his member, swirling, teasing until he grabbed your hair and pulled you closer, and you took him in so deep he almost lost it there and then. Jerome's hands were frantic now, pumping his cock, as he saw you in his mind, your soft lips around his shaft, sucking him, licking him, milking him until he saw stars.
He imagined how easy it was to pin you against the wall, to lift you up and wrap your legs around him. He thought of that now, imagining himself joining you on the bed and scooping you up in one swift motion. You wouldn't have enough time to process, he'd have you against the wall, silencing your surprise with a hungry kiss. You were nearly naked, he could slip himself out of his own pants easily enough. Then he'd be inside you, slowly at first. He'd savor you, every inch, every moment.
The passion in your voice, filled with lust and desire. He felt himself smirk, his tongue darting out against his lips. You sounded so completely desperate for him, and he felt his desire overwhelm him. His breath would have been loud enough for you to hear if you weren't so wrapped up in your fantasy. He wanted to march out of the closet and take you now, but he didn't. No, he wanted to capture every second of this. There was something so thrilling and exciting to him watching you in such a vulnerable position without your knowledge. He loved it. He got off on it.
Your breath came in gasps now, your eyes squeezed shut as your Jerome lead a trail of kisses down your chest, down your stomach, and finally finding your clit, circling it with a skillful tongue. Your back arched, imagining Jerome thrusting his fingers inside you, his tongue torturing you. He'd watch you from between your thighs, he'd relish watching you squirm and writhe at his touch. You bit your lip, trying to control your moans but you were fighting a losing battle.
You were close, so close. In your mind, you saw Jerome smile wickedly, lightening his touch to keep you on the edge. Even in a fantasy you controlled you liked to think he'd make you beg for him.
"Please," you moaned, your head rolling back as your touch brought you closer to orgasm. In your head you imagined you could hear him, his voice unimpressed, telling you to beg more.
"Please," you turned your head and moaned into a pillow, "please, fuck me."
In your mind Jerome didn't need to take off his pants, they were simply gone and there he was between your legs, his cock hard and throbbing. He inched forward, coating the tip with your wetness. It was agony. Your hips thrust forward, your body begging for him. He smiled, and told you to beg again.
"Fuck me," you whispered through your heavy breaths. "Oh, please... fuck me."
He was inside you in a heart beat, pushing deep with hard and measured thrusts. His hands gripped your hips and pulled you into each thrust, giving a deep throaty grunt. Your fingers didn't do your imagination justice, but still you felt your orgasm rushing towards you. You imagined those dark and hungry eyes watching you cum and you cried out, trying to muffle yourself with the pillow. You arched up from the bed and tried to keep your shaking hand on your wet heat, trying desperately to prolong this ecstasy. Jerome's cock filled you, his aggressive thrusts slowing with the end of your orgasm.
Jerome gripped himself harder, knowing he was close to the edge, and his body went rigid with lust, muscles rippling on his stomach as he pictured you sinking down on him, taking him in deeply, riding him hard. His breath was strained and his thoughts became incoherent. Your body, your heat, your wetness around him.
With a few more frantic, wild movements of your hand you succumbed to your orgasm. Jerome saw the orgasm move through you, rolling up and over your body as you whimpered, and it was enough to make him find release, too. Your body collapsed after the high receded, and you were panting, sweaty and flushed, the back of one hand pressed to your forehead as you gasped for breath.
As the pleasure faded it was quickly replaced with a feeling of shame and guilt. You were thinking about him. You hated that. It was wrong, so wrong. Everything about it. Even after everything, you still felt drawn to him. For what reasons, you didn't know, or perhaps you didn't want to know. That would mean confronting and examining things that you did not want to, things that would be dredged up from the grave that you have buried them in. You didn't want to unearth those unholy demons. That was why therapy wasn't working out for you.
You ran your other hand along your body, feeling your smooth sensitive skin. A few more breathless moments passed before you opened your eyes, squinting at the moonlight glow that filled your room. Your mouth felt dry and your limbs felt like jelly.
For almost an hour, you laid there, falling in and out of consciousness. You were lonely. So lonely. You hated looking to the other side of your bed and seeing nobody, an empty space. You longed for it. You longed to have somebody beside you.
So you acted on impulse due to your primal needs.
You still needed a distraction, more than anything.
You picked up your cellphone from your desk and started dialing the number of a friend. Someone you hadn't spoken to in a little while. Someone you used to hook up with. Someone you used to have fun with. Someone before Jerome.
You just wanted to be entertained for a little while.
"Hey Andrew, do you want to come over to my place?" you asked, playing with your hair.
"Sure, uh what do you have in mind?" Andrew answered, his voice sounding a little groggy like he had just woken up.
"My parents aren't home," you replied simply.
You could hear Andrew's tone change like a switch, all of a sudden he sounded much more awake now. "Yeah, yeah I'll be right there."
You smirked in response, feeling quite satisfied with yourself.
It wasn't long until you heard a pebble hit your window. You rushed over to the window and opened it. You looked down and saw Andrew, a smile on his pretty face. He still had the same light brown curls and those sparkling blue eyes, and those dimples, those goddamn dimples. He was as cute as ever.
"Hey you! What happened to your car?" you called out. You could see his bike on the pavement.
"It's at the repair shop," he answered.
"So you rode your bike all the way here, for me?" you asked, a hand on your chest while the other was placed on the window sill.
"Yeah, just for you," he said with a soft chuckle.
"I'm so honored," you told him, laughing.
"Of course," he said.
"Well, get in here! It's rude to keep a girl waiting," you winked at him.
You allowed him inside the house and guided him to your room by his hand, lacing your fingers with his. You could feel the anticipation radiating from his fingertips, he was practically vibrating with excitement.
Andrew was an easygoing and chill guy, the kind who was very irresponsible and loved to have simple, dumb fun. He was a big flirt, very popular with the ladies. He certainly wasn't the brightest but what he lacked in intelligence, he made up for in enthusiasm and good looks. He had always been easy to speak to and he didn't care much for talking about the deep stuff, which was something you definitely needed right now.
"So how have you been?" he asked as he took a moment to look about your room, standing in the middle of it. It had been a while since the last time he was here. "I haven't seen you in a while."
"I'm fine," you said quickly.
"Aren't you going to ask me how I've been?" he asked, glancing back at you with his eyebrows raised. You shrugged your shoulders and made an awkward gesture to show him that it was okay.
"Well I've been just dandy, thanks for asking," he said sarcastically.
"Look, Andrew, I think we both know why I asked you to come over," you said, your voice sharp.
"Yeah, but I've been worried about you, and so have a lot of people at school. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Andrew said with a concerned look on his face.
"That's really sweet of you, but you don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. I am fine," you told him.
"Yeah, nice try, but I'm not really buying that," Andrew said, shaking his head.
"Andrew," you said carefully. "Okay, truth be told, I really don't want to talk right now, or think, at all. I could use the company."
"I didn't think you were in the mood to talk, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for you, if you need anything," Andrew said.
You huffed out a laugh. "That's cute, but you sound like my therapist and just so you know, that's a huge turn off."
"You have a shrink?" Andrew asked, tilting his head to the side.
"Not by choice," you said, annoyance clear in your tone. "Doctor's orders."
"Shit, I'm sorry," Andrew answered.
"Whatever. Like I said, I don't want to talk about it," you mumbled under your breath.
"Hey it's okay. You're okay," Andrew cupped your cheek in his hand. You turned away from his gaze and swallowed hard, looking at the floor.
Meanwhile, Jerome was still there. In your house, hiding. Though, this time he was in another room. There was a painting of a Victorian princess hanging on your wall. Jerome was watching through the woman's eyes in the painting. He was in the guest room. He could hear every word of this conversation and he wasn't pleased, to say the least.
Andrew moved his hand over to your chin and made you meet his eyes, his gaze soft and earnest. There was a moment of silence that stretched on for what felt like an eternity between you two.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered.
Jerome snarled at that.
Your stomach had clenched at his words. You turned away once again, your hand over your mouth.
A frown took over Andrew's features almost immediately. "Uh, did I say something wrong?"
"No," you said quickly, taking a deep breath and willing your stomach to settle. "No... It's just... I don't... I don't feel very beautiful right now."
You felt Andrew's body heat as he walked up behind you, felt him touch your shoulder tentatively.
"You should," he murmured into your ear, his breath gusting over the sensitive tip and making you shiver. Turning to face him, you were stunned by the intensity in his eyes. Your chest tightened as you realized the power you had over him at this moment.
Before you could have any second thoughts, you wrapped you arms around him and leaned up to press your lips against his, drinking in his slight gasp of surprise. He tensed at your touch before his mouth began to move against yours, hesitant and awkward.
Jerome wanted nothing more than to be standing where Andrew was now. He ached for it. But still, he wanted to watch, too. He wanted to observe. He wanted to take in every movement of your body, every expression, every sound, everything. He wanted to experience and see it all. He didn't know when an opportunity like this would come up again, so he wanted to seize the chance while he could.
You broke away briefly, touching his cheek. "Relax," you whispered, before kissing him again, running your hands down his back and feeling his muscles bunch and loosen under your palms. The kiss deepened, his arms going around your waist as you pressed your bodies together, feeling his arousal hot against your hip. Andrew moaned into your mouth as you rubbed yourself against him, his breath stuttering and his skin flushed and damp.
"I want you to fuck me," you whispered into his ear, smirking as he groaned and shuddered. "I want to feel you inside me. I want you to make me come until I can't see straight."
"I..." Andrew was almost incoherent as you palmed him through his pants. "Fuck..."
You couldn't help but giggle upon his reaction and you inched away a little, only to shimmy out of your skirt. You watched him watch you, his chest rising and falling with the huge gulps of air he was taking, clearly on the verge of losing control. It was obvious how much he desired you and perhaps, you thought, that had been what you had been seeking all along. Perhaps you needed to feel truly wanted by someone.
His eyes widened as you stepped out of your panties and his cheeks were a deep pink. He was biting on his lower lip as he dragged his gaze over your body. You were wearing a long shirt and he could see your nipples poking through the material. You felt heat pooling between your thighs as you relished his expression of utter reverence. This was possibly the first time you had ever held so much control with a partner, and you found that you liked it. A lot.
With a quiet groan and against his better sense, Jerome slipped his hand down the fabric of his pants. He rubbed the heel of his palm along the base of his shaft and bit his lower lip, sinking his teeth into the skin.
Andrew reached over to remove your shirt in his haste, but you immediately grabbed both of his wrists before he was able to. You nearly flinched and started to feel panic rising in your stomach.
"Nuh-uh," you said, shaking your head. Oh no. You had to think up a good excuse. You still wanted to do this. You really wanted to do this, but you couldn't let him see the mark on your stomach, or more like the name on your stomach. You couldn't. No, you didn't want to scare him. It was dark, sure, but even if he didn't see it, he would definitely feel it, and so you weren't going to allow that. Though at the same time, you didn't want to stop this, because then that would mean that Jerome had won, in defiling you, in ruining you. No, you were not going to let him win.
"Huh?" Andrew raised his brows, looking puzzled.
A smirk formed on Jerome's face. He wanted Andrew to see his name carved into your skin, but at the same time, he felt a sense of pride knowing that you felt shame about it, that you wouldn't want any man to see the mark he left on you.
"Nope, it stays on. I want to tease you some more," you told him, trying to recover quickly and act like it was no big deal, that you were just being a tease. Yeah, that was all it was.
He nodded his head, it appeared like he didn't think much of it.
"Take your clothes off," you ordered, and he quickly began to fumble with the button on his pants. He was trying to remove everything at once, and you bit your cheek to hide your smile as he tripped over the undone legs of his pants while pulling desperately at one of his shoes.
"Slow down, big boy. I'm not going anywhere," you teased.
"Sorry, sorry," he said as he picked himself up from the floor bashfully. "I guess I'm just a little excited."
You threaded your fingers through his hair. "I know," you said with a smile. "I am, too."
You looped your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, the only item of clothing that remained as you continued to press your lips against his.
He screwed his eyes shut as you pulled the material down, a smirk playing on your lips. His entire body jerked as you ran one finger along the length of him, your breath hot against his stomach as you leaned forward to take him into your mouth.
The noise that he made then was unlike anything you had heard before. It sounded all at once like pain, need, and desperation. You didn't let up – lavishing your full attention on him with lips and tongue, drawing more groans from the man rocking and shaking in front of you. You rested one hand on his hip in an effort to keep him still because he was having trouble standing up straight.
Jerome moved his hand back up, fingertips brushing lightly up to the tip of his cock, then back down to grip around it. He tugged at the skin and thumbed over the pearl of precum that had already formed there. His body was tight as a bowstring against the wall, toes in his boots pressed hard into the floor of the room. It was only a few strokes before he began to feel the pressure build and his body's tension increase.
Andrew's shuddered gasp was loud in the quiet of the room. The first sensation he registered was an intense heat enveloping the thickness of his shaft. The second was wet, your mouth deliciously moist as it slid down the smooth skin, your tongue tracing along every pulsing vein in tantalizing detail. He started tangling his fingers in the strands of your hair, his fingertips resting on the back of your head as he battled for a semblance of self control.
Your tongue was now swirling its way over the ridge of his head, swooping circular motions that made it hard for him to think straight. Coherent thought had vanished, the tension in his stomach blazing as he felt saliva coat his cock, groaning out his need as your hand went to caress the moisture on his balls. Your other hand remained on his hip, trying to keep him steady. His reaction had never been so instant, energy pumping through his blood as electricity from each deliberate stroke of your tongue shot straight through his stomach, through his chest.
Jerome pinched and pulled, stroked and thrust, each motion making his blood boil hotter and his breath come sharper.
Your low moans reverberated down his head and added to the intensity building in his lower abdomen. You were gazing up at him now, your fingers having moved from his balls to wrap firmly around the base of his shaft. His hips were rocking slightly in rhythm as he cradled your head, trying his best not to rut like some brainless animal and fully appreciate the mind-blowing experience you gifted him with.
"I – you are beautiful," he murmured raggedly, distantly amazed his voice wasn't a squeak. "You have no idea what you are doing to me. I can't – I might not be able to..."
"Fucking inept piece of shit," Jerome muttered under his breath.
His hoarse words were met with a needy blaze of expectation. Anything else he had been thinking of saying disappeared as the warm wetness he couldn't seem to get enough of moved faster, the pressure increasing as your tongue continued to repeatedly flicker across his now swollen head. You were drawing his cock deeper with every swallow, your nails digging into his hips as you refused to let him withdraw.
The mere suggestion that you might actually want to capture his orgasm in your mouth sent what little control he had down the river with the rest of his inhibitions. His fingers were clenched around the back of your neck as he watched himself thrust into the hot temptation of your mouth, experimentally pushing as far as he dared go. His efforts were met with a rewarding, muffled wail, your eyes now glazed with nothing but lust as your increasingly rapid movements encouraged him further.
It was all the invitation he needed, one guttural groan after another adding to your cries as he started to fuck your mouth. His shaft was throbbing with his need to find his climax, blinded to anything else but the friction he craved as the now engorged head grazed the back of your throat time and time again. You had opened yourself up even more to accommodate his girth, your head falling back slightly as you allowed him to thrust faster and deeper, somehow matching your own strokes to his in a perfect blend of movement that made him senseless from the strength of his impending climax.
"I'm close, fuck, I'm close," he grounded out, incoherent at the sight of your lips so firmly wrapped around his cock.
His back was slightly arched and every single muscle tensed as he felt himself swiftly build to orgasm, the sopping wetness he could feel dribbling down his balls and coating his thighs a reminder of just how much of yourself you had given for his own pleasure. He was frantic now, his hands fists in your hair as he thrust mindlessly, every nerve ending on fire, his breathing fast and ragged as he clawed towards his release.
"Lucky bastard," Jerome said to himself, his lips quirking up in amusement. He started to thrust into his fist, stroking his bare cock. He gave himself long, measured strokes, fingers brushing against his balls as he reached down and formed a tight ring as they came back to rub under the head. He quickened his pace and his shaft grew even harder, the head of his thick cock swollen as he came closer to completion.
Suddenly his whole body spasmed with one last thrust hard and deep into the back of your mouth, his cock convulsing from the force of his ejaculation. He couldn't see, the whole world blocked out around him, the only thing visible was your tongue greedily licking up every last drop of his essence. He could barely stand, his knees going weak as he gasped for air, releasing one ragged breath after another as his mind floated off to a wonderland of bliss and contentment.
The smile on your face could only be described as smugly satisfied as you rose slowly to your feet, pressing a heated kiss by his ear. You were pleased that you had managed to reduce him to a quivering mess within minutes of touching him.
He released a shaky sigh, still in a haze of delirious pleasure as he tried to string a sentence together.
"Holy shit. That was... That was really..."
"The motherfucker can't even string a fucking sentence together," Jerome hissed to himself.
"Shhh," you cut him off with a finger gently pressed against his lips.
He blushed deeper as you led him over to the bed so that even the pale, freckled skin of his chest was starting to become flushed and rosy. You pushed him down on the mattress, his body falling back and his head hit the pillow.
He couldn't quite keep himself from reaching over for you, needing to have some measure of control now, and this, you allowed, wanting his touch as his hands skimmed over your thighs, up to your hips, to your waist, guiding you as you knelt on the bed with him. He groaned at the skimming sweep of your fingers down his chest, the light touch doing nothing to ease his burning desire as those taut muscles quivered in her wake.
"Are you ready?" you murmured throatily.
"Please," he said, his voice strained and desperate.
Lips found lips as you swung your leg over him, bracing yourself against the bed above his head as your kisses teased and taunted, letting him taste your smile over and over as his fingers flexed over the soft flesh of your thighs, one hand rising to cup the swell of your breast. Needing to hear your breath catch in your throat, feel your body jerk to his touch, taste your moan as your hips rose to stroke the firm length of his hard cock through the wet velvet of your apex.
Jerome moved with more insistence now, squeezing a little tighter, pulling a little harder, his hips shifting in seeking circles without his permission. He clenched his jaw and tried to hold himself still, and a grunt escaped his throat.
You shuddered over him, your fingers running through his hair as your hand slid down between you two to guide him inside you. Your movements deliberate and slow, feeling him slide into you inch by inch as you focused intently on his reactions. His face seemed to crumble on itself as he entered you, his heels drumming against the mattress, one hand on the curve of your waist and the other curled around the bed sheets, twisting them in his fingers. You took him deep within you and then stilled, your muscles clenching and adjusting to his length. You could feel him shudder beneath you.
After what felt like an eternity, you began to move, undulating your body over him as he thrust up into you. It took some minutes to find a rhythm, but when you two did, bodies moving in a harmonious dance, you felt yourself tremble all over, vibrating with need.
Jerome's body trembled and he swallowed the groan that rose as he pumped his fist over his shaft.
Andrew's head fell back with a strangled groan as you two joined together, his fingers tightening at your hip, fighting not to thrust deep and hard to feel your slick heat clamp around his fevered flesh. There were no words for how this carnal joining felt to him, this sensual merging that drove him to greater heights, teased him with the promise of more even without further motion. As you took him into you, your breath grew shallow, your eyes falling closed to savor that electrifying feeling. Slowly, you let go of his hair, only to glide your fingers over his chest as you drew yourself up, your back arching with undeniable pleasure at the feeling of him inside you, thick and throbbing, a primal call you were only too willing to answer.
Sweat beaded on Jerome's skin as his body twitches, trying to hold still but unable to as his pleasure rose. His cock leaked steadily, and he gathered the liquid up to help his hand glide more smoothly over his skin.
His eyes glowed as he looked up at you, admiring your soft and smooth body as you began to move to a sensual rhythm, his gaze fixated on the delicious rock of your hips, the brush of your skin to his, the sway of your hair. He arched beneath you, restless with need as a strained breath escaped his lips. His hands reached to caress your thighs, soft skin, the enticing bounce of your breasts above him. Every touch drove you on, your hands laid light against his wrists as your head fell back, releasing a tender moan that bore his name.
Jerome's hips bucked and his back bowed, and once more he squeezed the base of his cock to hold himself in check. Each breath was dragged into and then forced out of his lungs. He never dared to look away from the pretty picture you two created.
"Touch me," you said breathlessly, grabbing his wrist and dragging it across to where your bodies were joined. He pressed his fingers against your clit, measuring your reactions and adjusting the pressure until you crested the wave, your body tightening and rippling around him as you cried out your climax. The feeling of your body's pleasure was too much for him and he tipped over his own peak, cursing and burying his head into your chest as he spilled himself inside you.
This time when Jerome's hands begin to move, he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop the rising tide of pleasure, nor did he want to. It crashed over him with enough force to make his vision go white and his toes curl, though his hand kept stroking his cock to drag out his orgasm for as long as he could handle it. He suppressed his groan, biting into his lower lip harder. His throat felt dry and raw when he sucked in a calming breath at the end.
After the high, you rolled off his body and onto your back, staring up at the ceiling blankly. You felt an ache, a numbness in your heart, dull and persistent. Andrew fell right beside you, his face pressed against your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath.
"That was... That was fucking amazing," he whispered.
"Yeah," you said, with a frown that he couldn't see.
Andrew was whispering sweet nothings to you but it all fell on deaf ears, and before you knew it, he was out like a light.
In the hour that passed, Andrew was still sleeping soundly. Meanwhile, you hadn't caught a wink of sleep. You were turned on your side now, staring at the wall in front of you.
You sighed deeply.
You couldn't stop thinking. You couldn't get out of your head. You couldn't help it. You just wanted to sleep. That was all you asked for. One good night sleep, but of course, you got the exact opposite. You felt empty, almost hollow, like you were a shell of your former self. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw the ginger, you saw his vile little grin. You saw all the horrible things he did to you and your family.
No distraction could get rid of those thoughts. No amount of therapy could fix that. No temporary thrill. Nothing in the world. You were completely and utterly helpless. You were chasing empty highs and most of the time it didn't feel worth it.
Andrew started shifting in bed, humming softly and sleepily. He leaned closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You moved a little, feeling uncomfortable. He nestled his head against the back of your shoulder and then he slid his hands up to your stomach.
Immediately, you grabbed his hands and pushed them away, as if his touch had burned you.
"Hey, is something the matter?" Andrew asked groggily, startled by your reaction.
"I think you should go," you stammered. You sat up and slipped the blanket off your body.
"Why? Did I do something wrong?" he asked, confused.
"I said, I think you should go," you repeated. You pulled your blouse down in a hurry, feeling ashamed.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he said, sitting up now with a worried expression on his face.
"It's fine, it's fine," you told him, your hands were shaking rapidly. Andrew leaned over, placing his hand on your shoulder, and you quickly made a move to hide your hands between your thighs.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," he assured, trying to hush you.
"I told you I'm fine," you turned around and faced him with a fake smile on your lips.
"Then what's the problem?" he asked.
"It's getting late and I just remembered my parents will be home soon so it's just best if you go," you explained.
"I was hoping I could stay the night," he said, sounding disappointed. He moved his fingers and pressed a kiss against the curve of your shoulder.
"Now's not a good time. I'm sorry," you answered. You just wanted him to go away, he was getting too clingy already.
"Okay, I get it. I'll leave you be," he whispered. He grabbed his clothes from the floor and started slipping them on.
You uttered a quiet sigh and slid your fingers over your stomach as a series of shivers wracked your body. You weren't able to touch that part of you without shaking. You hoped one day, with everything in you, that you could overcome it.
"Will I be seeing you again, soon?" he asked, looking at you like a lovesick puppy.
"Maybe," you answered in a sing-song voice.
"Well, I'll be around," Andrew said with a smirk, leaning over your shoulder to kiss your cheek.
"I know," you replied with a hint of a smile.
He slipped off the bed and winked at you, then he was out the door, and you were all by your lonesome, with your thoughts again. You fell back on the bed, you wanted to be left alone but at the same time you didn't want to feel lonely anymore.
Andrew was riding his bike across the street, on his way home, a smile on his face. He was on cloud nine. He was feeling on top of the world, like there wasn't a single thing that could ruin his day. He was looking forward to the next time he was going to see you, and he was sure that day would be very soon, but it couldn't come soon enough.
He was pedaling on his bike, just minding his own business when he started to feel a pair of eyes on him, it was like he was being watched. He simply dismissed it, thinking it was the darkness of the night playing tricks on him.
He started pedaling faster to ease his mind, looking behind his shoulder every now and then again, but still seeing nothing. He was hearing footsteps come his way but then the second he turned around to the source of the noise, he wouldn't hear it anymore. He could have sworn he saw a tall shadowy figure approaching him, maybe he was just paranoid, yeah that was it. That was what he kept telling himself.
Finally, he arrived at his neighborhood. He breathed a sigh of relief. It wouldn't be long now that he would be in the comfort and safety of his own home. He was just about to open the door to his house with his key but when he reached for his right pocket, it wasn't there. That was where he had left it.
He rummaged through all of his pockets on his pants and even the ones on his jacket even though he was sure they weren't there. They were all empty. He started to think that maybe they accidentally dropped at your place.
He was going to improvise a plan, consider all his options before he made a move but that was when he felt a cold blade pressed against his throat and the clicking of someone's tongue against his ear.
"Looking for this?"
Andrew could see the smirk on this man's face even though he wasn't facing him. He was too scared to look back. His blood had ran cold and his body was frozen in his shock. His heart started taking off like a skyrocket.
It was Jerome.
He had been following him this whole time, just waiting for his move, his perfect opportunity.
Jerome jiggled the keys in the space around his ear, chuckling darkly.
"Who are you?" Andrew whispered, surprised that he was able to form a proper sentence. He was sure he was about to piss his pants.
"Haven't you been watching the news? Ever pick up a newspaper? Step outside the house?" Jerome rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Surely you've seen my face somewhere. I'm kind of a big deal around here."
"You're that psychopath who broke out of Arkham," Andrew whispered in a shaky voice.
"Hmm, gotta be a bit more specific than that, that's an everyday occurrence big guy," Jerome mocked.
"Jerome Valeska," Andrew murmured.
"And we have a winner!" Jerome roared with thunderous laughter.
"What do you want from me?" Andrew asked.
"I'm going to skin you alive from head to toe and then make you swallow your own vomit as you choke on your teeth!" Jerome rasped against his ear, his words dripping with venom. Andrew's whole body was shaking rapidly and he couldn't get a word out, his heart was beating wildly and uncontrollably against his rib cage. His teeth was gritted together and his feet felt like it was stuck to the ground.
"That would create quite a mess, though, but boy would it be worth it," Jerome cackled.
"Please don't kill me," Andrew begged.
"I would say it's nothing personal, but it is, it's very personal, big guy. It was a fun show to watch though," Jerome taunted with a cold glare on his features.
"What?" Andrew asked, confused.
"But you weren't supposed to be the star," Jerome rasped against his ear.
"Wait what? What are you talking about?" Andrew questioned, beads of sweat dripping down his face.
"I tainted the bitch, I tainted her so no one else would dare touch her again, and yet you still fucked her," Jerome said, his words drawled out in a husky rumble.
"What did you do to her?" Andrew found himself asking before he could stop himself.
"I made sure she knew who she belonged to. I made sure she would never forget. She's mine, and no sick prick is gonna take what's mine," Jerome said, the words coming out as a growl. "I should cut out your tongue, sew your mouth shut, then slice off every single one of your fingers, then chop off that poor excuse for a-"
"You're going to torture me? You're sick! You're totally out of your fucking mind! I'm going to call the police!" Andrew cried, cutting him off. He fumbled around for his cellphone in his pocket and pulled it out.
"The po-po can't save you now. Enough talk. Lights out," Jerome jeered. And with that, Jerome sliced Andrew's neck open with his blade. A sharp and strained gasp escaped Andrew's lips, a wicked smirk playing on Jerome's lips as he watched the blood gush out, spilling until he inevitably collapsed to the ground, soaking in red.
"You sure do paint a pretty picture, lover boy," Jerome scoffed. He stared as Andrew's body convulsed on the ground, looking into his lifeless eyes. Jerome leaned over, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he spat on his body.
"Worthless piece of trash," Jerome muttered to himself, a snarl on his face. He crouched down and took the phone from Andrew's pants, raising his eyebrows in interest.
"What do we have here?" Jerome said aloud. He started scrolling through his contacts until he reached your name.
He tapped your name and began typing away.
He sent the text and it said: Missing you already babe xoxo
You grabbed your phone on your nightstand, checking the text message you received. It said that it was from Andrew but little did you know that it was from Jerome, using Andrew's phone.
When you read it, you shook your head in annoyance and placed it back down on your nightstand.
Jerome smirked to himself, slipping Andrew's cellphone in his pocket. He started humming as he dragged Andrew's body away from the neighborhood.